


Privilege of Rank Pt. 2

by Asasin



Series: Privilege of Rank [2]
Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Denied orgasm, Dildos, Drugging, Implied Relationships, Kinky, M/M, Makeshift Dildo, Non-Consensual Bondage, Part Two, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Sexual Revenge, cutting off clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asasin/pseuds/Asasin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon "Ghost" Riley keeps grudges and always exacts revenge where revenge is due. And after last night’s erotic and unexpected incident, the lieutenant is eager to take revenge on his captain. Tonight he takes up his chance to do just that…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold

**Author's Note:**

> The Rape/non-con tag is only reference to the fact that John did not volunteer for Simon's method of revenge.
> 
> Also, although this is Pt.2 of the series, you can read it without needing to read Pt.1 first. There's not really that much referencing between the two for it to be too confusing.

Everyone knows not to fuck with Ghost. From the bottom up, all the good soldiers of Task 141 give him a wide berth. He’s earned that respect. But a man who was buried alive in his own coffin seems to earn that much, even from death. He’s come close to biting the dust his fair share of times, the nicks and unnatural colors that scrap across his body promise and prove it.

Even when he was the FNG in Task 141, the hotshots seasoned by years in the force gave him respect early. He wasn’t just another soldier, some young dingbat being shipped into the real shit who thought they had balls. No, he was already rising into his prime. He’d already broken off his training wheel and scrapped away his innocence. He was—is—a killer. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He wore his mask because he respected death not because he was trying to hide from it. That’s why he was brought in. 

The Task Force hadn’t been looking for new recruits. They were looking for someone who was already a menace on the field: knew how to operate, knew how to kill, and knew how to survive. Ghost’s bloody ledger fit the bill like a dream.

It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that he didn’t take shit from anyone. Being out in the shit changes a man, giving him license to kill other men takes away his naivety and integrity—to be expected to know that each day might be the last and to act violently when need be meant you had to love your country more than your paycheck. So a fist to the face wasn’t an uncommon way of him getting feelings across. Actions speak louder than words. If anyone, Ghost knows this best. He never asked for a fight, though, but he sure as hell wasn’t afraid to start one.

As it turns out, he also was used to being his own commander. Still, the appraisal of his previous feats earned him the position of Lieutenant under Captain “Soap” MacTavish. Nothing more nothing less, General Sheppard had told him years ago.

It turned out as a matter of earning one another’s respect. Having two men who judge actions closely, it was fair grounds with no bullshit. But good friends are enemies at some point and Ghost and Soap started as enemies early. They were never on opposite sides of the field, but frequently to the point where shit got thick between them.

See, Ghost has a problem. He doesn’t always see eye to eye with people in their decision. Regardless of their rank, he will counter their ideas with his own. Some might consider this a disrespect of ranks, others ignorance. It’s a mixture of both. And the previous force he worked with knew that best: he works better alone or in charge. When he was just settling in with TF 141? Not so much, particularly his Captain.

Soap was the direct result of his previous Captain’s leadership and influence. He leads with a staunch resolve, and he takes his rank seriously, but never allows it to bring him to the belief that it meant he was overall superior to the ranks below him. No, being Captain was a hallmark that meant he had to make sure he got his team through the shit wall and back out to tell the tale. It didn’t mean he had them chained up like dogs, but rather that he was leading them like wolves.

This was new news for Ghost. He was, as they say, a lone wolf. A one to two man mission was his by dead rights. Putting him in front of four was pushing it. He didn’t necessarily overexert his authority as much as he preferred to not have the weight others on his shoulders and conscience. He could pull it off effectively, but it was not his cup of tea.

With Soap that become extremely apparent. On contrast, they were opposite colors—the leader and the loner. The results were not frequently pleasant. Ghost would bash Soap; radio chatter would consist of arguing and cause dangerous pauses in operations. At times he would disagree with his Captain so thoroughly he would go against the man’s orders.

Sometimes he was right, but sometimes he was wrong. Indecision and disagreement in the ranks is a dangerous course to set out upon in operations. It wasn’t long before there was one thing everyone knew for certain about Simon Riley: he was—is—as stubborn as all hell.

It seemed Ghost was the wrong dream come true for TF 141. Somehow Soap hadn’t seen it that way. He certainly had the unique ability to see two faces leaning in to kiss when everyone else saw a plain vase, but he wasn’t known to keep taking shit from someone. But that’s exactly what he continued to do with Ghost. At first glance it would have looked like Soap giving the man a fair chance, but beneath the surface there was a heart beating to a different tune. So while the men thought their Captain was trying to keep a good soldier on their Force, it was actually just the case of a man falling love in the most peculiar fashion.

Ghost frustrated the shit out of Soap, but it was a good frustration if there ever were such a thing. He would work the Captain up and fight him like no one else would. Somehow that turned the Scottish man on. He needed someone who wasn’t afraid to step up and put his foot down. Though, it would work much more advantageously if he were doing that for Soap not against him. He could see Ghost was an indispensable ally—once his trust and loyalty had been earned.

And that’s what Ghost was never good at doing: completely trusted someone. Yet, Soap was there. He always was and continued to be faithfully. Even despite their fights, the Captain refused to plain out hate Ghost, which surprised Riley. Soap would chastise the shit out of him, but never threaten or do anything that might cause any breech in trust.

Soap knew how to lure a lone wolf into the pack. He learned to start giving Riley just enough free rein that he would feel like he had control of his own actions, but would still be obeying orders. It happened that Ghost could be a very useful ally once he realized he didn’t always need to keep his plans to himself. Soap listened very well. One agreement led to another.

Walls started falling down slowly but steadily until one night Soap was holding Ghost tightly in his arms. The soldier was trembling with a fright that seemed surreal surrounding someone like him. He kept mumbling about a coffin, but MacTavish never caught the rest with Riley’s face buried in his chest. Ghost wouldn’t let go, and Soap never thought of releasing him, so he ended up falling asleep in each other’s arms in Riley’s room. That was the last wall to fall.

Maybe Soap had finally passed some sort of test or maybe the Lieutenant had finally realized he could really trust his Captain, but after that night Ghost started dropping his guard around Soap. He refused to talk about “the coffin”, but with the other things that started to come around MacTavish stopped minding so much.

The rest of the Task Force on Soap’s team probably thought it was a miracle, but it was just the start of a little something called love. It started with a lingering hug, then a soft kiss, and peaked with a passionate fuck.

By the time a sweet, American soldier named Gary Sanderson joined the Force, Ghost and Soap were thick as thieves. Yet, some things never completely changed. Ghost was still a lone wolf, to say the least. He had integrated himself in the pack, but still allowed his own opinion to dictate him actions. Seeing as Soap and him had become a serious item, it only made things worse whenever Riley went against his Captain.

As infrequent as it was, it made Soap confused and furious. Didn’t Ghost trust him? Hadn’t he proved he listened to his Lieutenant? Why couldn’t Ghost just listen? He wasn’t right all the time.

Times like these were particularly dangerous for their relationship.

One time in particular when Soap refused to more forward and Ghost refused to move back. A soldier, callsigned Beaver, had been wounded during a mission. Indifferently, he was dead weight to the mission. But compassionately he was part of the team, a part of an extended family.

Ghost left Soap to finish the mission with a frightened, newbie Roach in tow. It was suicide. He went anyway. A two-man operation was his type of operation, Riley remembered. But as he had walked down the asphalt roads with Roach close behind, he realized maybe he wasn’t such a lone wolf after all. He sure as hell didn’t know Beaver, but somehow he was starting to feel what Soap felt watching over his men.

He finished the mission with only a graze wound on his shoulder, but, above all, he looked after Roach. Soap was hell-bent on being absolutely furious when he returned for evac, but had been worried to all shit that it didn’t work so well for the first hour.

Ghost was put on suspension upon return to HQ, and Soap refused to talk to him for days on end. Until suddenly he had, out of the blue, decided to enact the ‘perfect’ punishment.

Now…

He woke up sore. Nearly the full-length of his body is throttled by it, a deep-set sensation of being exhausted and overworked. His arse, in particular, tingles furiously from the overwhelming sensation of being pounded and spanked, while his back is stiff from being rigid the whole while. Even his mind is a scattered void of obscure memories. His thoughts are like the soft blurs of wet watercolors, any cognitive reasoning lingering beyond his reach.

Then humiliation sets in.

Captain “Soap” John MacTavish had put him through bondage so he could teach him a lesson on dominance. That motherfucker had fucked him with a piece of fucking fruit and then had the audacity to take him like he had the right. Even worse, Simon’s body had betrayed him. Being fucked and teased like that had felt good. John’s cock, the cucumber, they both had struck bundles of sensitive nerves that filled his body with pleasure he had been willing to beg for. Even the deafening sensation of his release—when he was finally allowed—had been momentously wonderful.

Ghost growls beneath his breath. He had been too blinded by exhaustion and pleasure to feel angry with his Captain. But now, now that he’s awake and thinking, he’s feeling rather furious. “Fucking wanker,” he grumbles, throwing his feet out of John’s bed and forcing himself to stand. His whole body feels wobbly like Jell-O. It feels safer to sit at the edge instead of trying walking. This also gives him a chance to realize he’s completely naked. That would make sense, since John cut up his pants, but it seems like his shirt had been fine. He glances around for it, but all evidence of last night’s exotic ‘torture’ is gone. There’s nothing to tell that anything had happened except for the burning memory Riley has in his mind and the ache in his body.

He winces as his arse begins to complain about being sat on for too long. Standing carefully, he makes his way towards John’s trunk with a good limp. Great. Now everyone is going to be wondering why he’s walking around bowl-legged, wincing every time he sits. John had never liked using combination locks, and he knew everyone well enough to know that they wouldn’t be rustling through his things. Granted that’s what Simon is doing right now, but he’s a special case.

Not really wanting his Captain to have the pleasure of walking in to find his Lieutenant naked, kneeling over his trunk, Simon quickly pulls out a pair of pants, a shirt, socks, and briefs. Soap is slightly bigger so these clothes won’t fit as well, but Ghost is determined to keep them. After all, the bastard did shred some of his clothes.

It would be nicer to shower then put something clean on, but he doesn’t really have a choice. Slipping everything on, he pulls on his boots and tucks in the laces. It’s off to the showers to get a much-needed rinse.

Δ

Rohypnol is a drug that causes sedative affects, amnesia, muscle relaxation, and slowing of psychomotor performance. Basically, those who ingest Rohypnol appear to be very drunk. Typical it takes 15 to 30 minutes after ingestion for side affects to appear. It lasts for 8 hours; peak effects taking place after 2 hours.

Three hours ago…

“Anything missing Doc?”  
“Huh?” Herb looked at him with a confused frown. Ghost nodded generally in the medical bay. “Has anything disappeared of late?”  
“Yeah. How the hell did you know that?”  
“Was it brought back?”  
“How do you know that?” A pause. “Did you steal it?”  
“No. Answer the first question, Sergeant.”  
“Yes. Yes, it was brought back, Ghost.”  
“What was it?”  
“Rohypnol.”  
“I’ll need a tablet.”  
“Are you one drugs?!”  
“No.”  
“Then why would you need any?”  
“A friend of mine needs it.”  
“Is he on drugs?”  
“For the love of fuck, Herb, give me a tablet, okay?” The medic shifted, looking nervous. He doesn’t want to disobey orders, but doesn’t want to piss off Ghost even less. “You know I can’t do that,” he tried to compromise.  
“It’s a good thing this conversation never officially happened then, isn’t it?”  
“You’re a fuck off.” Herb shifted through a cabinet and threw him the container. “Just one, you hear? And if you are doing drugs, you’re in deep shit.” Ghost took one and left.

Now…

“Hey bug, are you taking that to Soap?” Ghost gestures towards the cup of coffee he’s holding. Roach looks down at it. “Yeah. He said he didn’t get much sleep last night. Asked me if I could grab him some.” Ghost nearly snorts. He didn’t get much sleep, eh?  
“Big man too busy to do it himself?” Roach shrugs, looking as if he doesn’t really care. “Well, Soap and I have some business to talk about anyway. Why don’t I take it there for you?” Roach perks up.  
“So you two are talking again?”

Ghost and Soap hadn’t spoken to one another since yesterday after Ghost overstepped his command chain again and got pissed for having his ass chewed. Or at least that’s what everything probably thinks.

Last night gave them a chance to speak a few words to one another, but mostly it had been one-sided. Granted, Ghost had somewhat forgiven Soap for that crazy ass shit he pulled, but he’d been thoroughly humiliated. If there’s one thing Ghost hates more than straight, black coffee it’s being walked over. So it’s a complete lie when Ghost consents that the Captain and him are ‘talking’ again.

While not talking since yesterday doesn’t seem like a long time, for being as thick as thieves as they are, it’s worth figuring something is up. Especially since Soap is Ghost’s boss, and Ghost is Soap’s right hand man—his undoubted wingman. He takes the orders Soap gets from General Sheppard, so he almost always needs to be nearby to lend an ear to the latest news from upstairs.

“I’m going the same way, anyway,” Ghost says, with a nonchalant shrug. Beneath his mask, Ghost smirks: opportunity has soundly paved the way for his success. “Are you up to something?” Roach asks suddenly, looking at his suspiciously for a moment. Ghost’s smirk disappears as he frowns, wondering how Roach had read him so easily.

Damn, he’d really has let the bug get close.

The young Sergeant looks away awkwardly suddenly, saving the Lieutenant a reply. “You and Soap…? Um, are you… uh… mad at each other, still?” Ghost opens his mouth to reassure him nothing is wrong, but the young Sergeant decides he isn’t quite finished talking yet. “Ghost, please stop pissing MacTavish off.” The Lieutenant laughs. Firstly because it sounds ridiculous, and then secondly because he’s impressed with how Roach really knows him so well. “Does he scare you when he’s mad?”  
“No…. It’s just…” Sanderson falls silent.

Ghost waits for him to pick back up, but when no second attempt comes he decides to say something. “’It’s just’ what?” The Sergeant suddenly seems unusually uncomfortable. “I know how much you two like each other and stuff…” he mumbles.  
“Don’t worry about it, bug,” Ghost quickly says. “John and I can never stay mad at each other for long.” Roach nods, seeming convinced enough or at least too uncomfortable with the topic to go on.

Ghost stares down the hallway, knowing Soap’s little office isn’t too far. He’s glad no more questions arise as silence falls.

Gary knows lot of things about him— a lot more than Simon would normally let anyone know. However, he still doesn’t know that he’s gay. It’s not like telling someone who likes dogs that you like cats more. Telling someone about a different sexual orientation was sometimes judged so severely death was the sentence.

Not that Roach could ever dish out some so cold hearted. If anything, he’s a sweet, innocent bug. Ghost has figured he’s shaped out to be something like a little brother. It’s the fear that keeps Ghost quiet in the end. He’s lucky to have a future because he was stupid enough to entrust that secret with a “friend” in his past. But he’s not afraid for himself, but for Roach. He’s afraid of what someone might do to the little bug if they think he knows anything.

Maybe he’s paranoid. But he’s seen what people can do. Everyone’s a critic, but it’s the judges you have to worry about.

“I’ll see that the coffee gets to him, bug. Why don’t you go run the training course a few times with Toad? He doesn’t like it when Archer makes him run alone.”  
“Yeah, alright. See you around, Ghost.”

The Lieutenant watches him leave, but turning to his mission. “Alright, John,” he growls, reaching into his pocket as he heads towards his Captain’s office.

He enters Soap’s office after rapping his knuckles against the door a few times. Just in case the wanker had his belt undone and his hand wrapped around his dick, Ghost figures with a sour smirk.

“Simon?” His Captain looks at him in slight surprise, but Ghost says nothing. He walks up to his desk and puts down the mug of coffee just rough enough that the hot contents come close enough to spilling that Soap flinches. Undoubtedly whatever paperwork he’s working on right now is important and extensive enough to make any thought of redoing any of it scary.

John looks at him then the coffee, his face clearly asking, “What’s this?”. Ghost crosses his arms. “Roach asked if I had a moment to bring this over.” He looks unhappy with having the job dropped on him and bored with the thought of having to stay any longer. Soap picks up on his attitude quickly and sighs. “Well… this is a little awkward,” he says, looking down at his desk. It makes him look unusually humble, and Ghost feels a twinge of reservation.

Is drugging his Captain the right way to go about things? He refrains from saying something as the handsome bastard takes a sip of his coffee anyway.

MacTavish sighs in satisfaction, leaning back into his chair with the warm cup in hand. With the knowledge of the caffeine about to jumpstart his system again, he can suddenly handle the situation a little better. “I really needed this,” he sighs.  
“Well, you can thank Roach later,” Ghost replies, turning to leave.  
“Simon… wait.” He pauses, but doesn’t turn. “You aren’t sore about last night, are you?”  
“What makes you think I wouldn’t be?” Ghost starts towards the door. Fucking wanker.  
“Because you weren’t that pissed afterwards.” Ghost’s hand is on the door. “Okay, fine! Maybe I was a little to rough, but it’s not like you didn’t enjoy it, mate.” Ghost looks back, because he’s pissed at the notion of Soap thinking he liked that humiliation. But deep down, he knows it’s a little true, which only makes him all the angrier.

Soap holds him hands up in surrender, which proves to be a little awkward with a full cup of coffee. He doesn’t say anything more, leaving Ghost to leave and muse exactly how long it might take for Soap to succumb to the effects of his drugged coffee. An hour tops, he decides.


	2. Delicious Irony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost enjoys the chance to enact his revenge.

Soap wakes up with a jolting shudder rolling his shoulders up in a shiver. “Fuck,” he groans as his tries to grope what’s going on with a surprisingly groggy mind. “What was in that coffee…?” he wonders aloud.  
“Payback,” says a voice dripping with wryness.  
“Simon?” Soap turns his head over to see the lieutenant sitting almost placidly at the end of his bed. “I’m afraid you’ll be missing dinner, mate.”

For a moment they stare at each other until something lights up in John’s eyes. Simon smirks in satisfaction: he understands. “You always were a bloody stickler for revenge,” his captain grumbles, testing the bonds keeping his arms above his head and tied to the bed’s top rail. Realizing that, he also realizes he’s only wearing his underwear.

Ghost slides off the end of the bed and takes of his mask. He can feel John’s eyes on him. They’re curious, nervous, but still hungry. His captain might have fucked him hard last night, but Simon’s still hungry, too. Hungry for revenge. Hungry with lust.

He watches Soap’s throat work up and down quickly as he saunters around the bed towards him. “Excited already?” Soap asks. Ghost can tell he’s trying to ease the mood, make himself feel more confident. Good. He doesn’t want Soap to be comfortable right now. And besides the bulge isn’t what he thinks it is.

With a wicked grin he reaches into his pocket. “Not quite,” he says, pulling out a cucumber. Soap’s cheeks start burning red much to the lieutenant’s delight.

He watches the captain stare at the floor as he flips a condom over the cucumber. He climbs on the bed. It almost makes him delirious with self-satisfaction. MacTavish thinks he can ride him into submission. Even though he’s on top in the ranks and bed, Ghost never lets him assume complete control.

He’s been told many times before he would be the perfect soldier if he just followed orders.

Ghost pulls a bottle of lube out of his pocket. He’s never really cared about being the perfect soldier. Out in the red zone, where the metallic smell of gunpowder and the bitter smell of blood rise like sulfur, where grown men piss themselves and scream for their mothers, the chain of command could never hold an iron grip on him. Opportunities flashes by choices had to made instantaneously. He didn’t have time to tap his commander on the shoulder and give him a run down.

Sometimes… sometimes, though, he respects his commander enough to slow down. But that man better be one hell of a respectable one.

Simon draws a finger up John’s naked leg. He watches his captain’s shoulders squeeze together in anticipation. Unlike he had been, Simon knows John is going to actually be somewhat prepared. It’ll just be a matter of making him beg and plead for sweet release. Denying a man of his orgasm just when the ecstasy is upon him is like jumping for a ledge and missing it only by a few centimeters.

Simon’s hand creeps up to the edge of his captain’s boxer briefs. He slips a finger inside and feels the soft, but worn of the underwear. He suddenly stretches the finger inside, and it glances across John’s sac.

Soap’s breathing stays even, but Ghost knows that won’t last for long. He slips his hand into the underwear and gently squeezes his captain’s jewels. “Shaved, huh?” he asks. Soap breath hitches. “You said you liked it better that way,” he gasps.  
“Hmm.” He hadn’t noticed last night. Then again there were a lot of other, more distracting things going on.

The lieutenant lets his hand roam onto Soap’s length. He can see it’s already nearly halfway erected. He ‘tsks’. “Getting excited already?”

Soap says nothing and grits his teeth as Ghost continues to plague him with unbearably light touches around the groin. He tries to keep a straight face, not wanting the wanker to get any pleasure from this, but he can’t help the way his body ripples under Simon’s touch. He wants to growl at him to stop fucking off, but nothing is under his control right now.

Ghost looms over his captain’s chest. His tongue darts out and lightly wets one of the nipples. Simon waits a moment, watching his prisoner squirm slightly beneath him. After a few seconds his tongues darts out again, more thoroughly lathering the nub. He takes it in his mouth while gently squeeze Soap’s cock. The man’s whole body lurches, and Simon bites down on the nipple. “Fuck!” Simon grins and starts pulling at the nipple, fully knowing how sensitive it is.

John’s cock starts growing in his hand and he keeps sucking and pulling. When it’s fully erect he pulls his hand out of his captain’s underwear. He laps at the nipple, listening to Soap groan. His hips start bucking as he looks for some release.

Once this nipple is hard and shiny with saliva, Simon moves onto the next. He grabs it between his teeth and pulls on it just enough to hurt, but not enough to be agonizing. His tongue works over the tip as his teeth hold it.

Beneath him, Soap starts writhing. A low groan escapes his pinched shut lips.

After a minute, Ghost releases the nub and gives it a final lick. He turns his attention to the tent pitched in Soap’s underwear. Running a hand down his captain’s muscle chiseled abdomen, he ghosts over the lively bulge. He can feel his cock start to awaken in anticipation as he lightly touches it. The underwear is a little wet from pre-leaking.

Simon pulls out his pocketknife and flips open the blade. He watches Soap stare at the blade. “Don’t move, and I won’t cut you.” John raises an eyebrow. Simon knows it sounds familiar to him. Only last night, he was the one saying it.

Ghost slips it beneath the waistband of Soap’s underwear and cuts it. He slits open the rest of the material. It falls aside, revealing John’s acutely hard erection. Folding up the blade, the lieutenant slips it back into his pocket. His eyes are on his captain’s cock the whole while. Leaning down, he lets some of his hot breath tickle the tip. The cock twitches and a teardrop of pre-cum is weaseling out of the tip.

The lieutenant smirks. MacTavish has always had a high sex drive. This will be easy.

Grabbing the lube, he squeezes some onto his fingers. In after thought, he pinches a drop onto John’s cock. The captain’s body tightens. Simon can see the tense muscles poking through the man’s thighs. He watches the cool drip slither from the tip off the tip and down the cock’s length.

Grabbing the cucumber and two pillows, he crawls between John’s legs. He lifts up John’s waist and puts the two pillows under his lower back and spreads apart his captain’s legs. His lubed finger kisses Soap’s entrance. The captain grunts as the tips squeezes inside.

Soap’s never been on top, so it’s not a surprise he’s extremely tight. Ghost reaches over and gives the tip of his cock a slight squeeze. “Fuck!” Soap’s hips buck forward and the tip presses into Simon’s hand. The lieutenant’s finger slips in a little farther. He pushes in, gaining more entrance. He wiggles the digit around a slightly while letting Soap hump his hand.

He pulls his hand away and pushes his finger in all the way. “Ouch, Goddamnit,” John growls when Simon pulls the digit out most of the way and pushes it back in. Ghost taps the cucumber on his naked hip. “Better get used to it,” he advises.

He starts fingerfucking his captain steadily. The heat around the digit is stirring his own cock. He’s starting to harden, but he’ll get his own release soon enough. Right now Soap needs to feel like his unfulfilled desire is suffocating him.

Ghost keeps fingering his captain’s tender hole, watching the man’s face redden and eyes squeeze shut. His body shutters as another finger teases for entrance. As the tip slips inside, John grunts and arches his back. The look on his face is pure balance between pain and pleasure.

Looks like somebody is getting into the groove of things…

Once he gets the second digit inside, Simon does nothing, agonizingly nothing. Only a few seconds have to creep by before John starts stirring. A bead of pre-cum slips from the head of his cock as he presses his hips down, trying to gain some sort of friction. Simon pulls both of the fingers out. A mixture of relief and frustration pass over John’s face. He opens his mouth, probably to complain, but Ghost squeezes both fingers back inside. “Bloody hell,” his captain gasps, clenching his hands.

Ghost starts working his fingers in and out of the tight hole. He scissors the fingers apart slightly, but not much, knowing Soap is still adjusting to the intrusion. After a few moments of cautionary finger, he decides to pick up the pace.

He pulls out one finger while keeping the other inside. With that one finger, he starts roughly thrusting in and out. Simon twists his finger inside Soap at different angles, teasing out his most sensitive spot. “Ah!” Soap gasps, suggesting he’s finally found the prostate. He groans loudly as Ghost picks up the pace, but his twitching cock hints he does not entirely detest it either.

After a minute, he pulls the digits out and applies more lube to them and a third. He slips the first two back in and then slowly penetrates with the third. Soap’s breathing hitches and his back arches hard. His entrance tightens, but Ghost still slips the third finger inside past his nail. He lets his captain adjust only for a moment before starting to slip the third all the way inside.

It’s well coated with lube and slides inside rather easily. He starts slowly fingerfucking him with all three digits. They slide inside slowly and then retreat halfway. He can’t fuck John too hard, yet. His insides are so tight, but they won’t be for much longer…

Simon starts searching for MacTavish’s sweet spot. That bundle of nerves will break his captain down faster than Roach when somebody eats all the Cheerios.

John’s body suddenly jerks and his eyes roll into his head. “Fuck…” He drawls out the word slowly with a moan. Simon lightly teases the spot, but otherwise holds his fingers still. He doesn’t have to wait long until his captain starts moving again, trying to grant himself that delicious pleasure.

“Do you wanna do it yourself?” Simon asks. John’s face tightens with annoyance and embarrassment. “Okay…” He starts removing the fingers.  
“Arse,” John grumbles. Simon only hums in amusement. He absolutely looks the irony of this situation. He strokes John’s insides, making the captain shutter. “Yes,” John gasps. “Just fucking do it.”  
“What’s the magic word, mate?” Ghost taunts. John looks at him with stony eyes: ‘I just gave in. Isn’t that enough?’ “Only seems fair after last night,” Ghost replies, entirely unnerved. “It’s called irony.”  
“Cheeky—“ John’s head snaps back with a moan as Simon drives his fingers back inside, into his prostate. He pulls this fingers back out and lubes up the cucumber. 

Simon pokes John’s entrance with the fruit for a few minutes. His own cock is starting to feel hot and impatient. Ghost doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to resist doing something about it. Rubbing against the fabric of his underwear makes it ache even more as he shifts. He starts pushing the cucumber inside John. It’s six inches long and thick, so he’ll have to go slow at first.

The tip sinks inside his captain slowly. He drinks in ever expression passing over the man’s face as the fruit continues to penetrate him. John’s face is tight in a grimace. A few beads of sweat have formed on his forehead, and his lips are pinched. But past his waist, his cock is twitching hungrily. Ghost reaches over and draws a finger up the length. He pulls it down and lets it bounce back to its erect position. John grunts. A bead of sweat slides down the side of his face.

Ghost slips the cucumber deeper. He’s gotten at least an inch inside. He twists the cucumber a little, watching John’s cock immediate jerking reaction. His captain’s body shifts and his hands clench hard. It’s only too obvious MacTavish needs to have to his cock stroked. Ghost leans down and licks the tip. A low moan rises from MacTavish.

Simon slips the cucumber deeper: two inches inside now. He starts thrusting with the makeshift dildo. Even with the lube, Soap is still too tight to do anything too dramatic. But Ghost pulls the cucumber out and back at a steady pace. After all, he can clearly remember how Soap pounded him. He pushes the fruit in deeper and John curses.

Leaning down again, Simon laps at his captain’s cock. His tongue rolls over the head like a lollipop, but each lick is light. He isn’t going to give John too much pleasure. “Goddamnit, Simon,” his captain whines. He thrusts his hips forward as he tries to capture more of his mouth. Ghost only chuckles and moves out of the way, raising an eyebrow when the man grunts as the movement gives him a too-tight grip of the cucumber.

Still, if he wants to get the cucumber all the way inside John without hurting him, he’ll need to give his captain some pleasure to work with. Riley takes the head of his captain’s cock in his mouth and starts sucking. “Fuck… fuck…” John gasps. His tongue swirls over the slit at the tip, licking away the pre-cum.

The cucumber sinks in farther and farther the longer and more vigorously Simon takes John’s cock. When he finally feels it’s deep enough, he pulls away. The tip leaves his mouth with a pop. His gazes lustfully at John’s stretched entrance. He’s pretty sure his captain’s ass is either virgin or it’s been a long time since it’s been stretched.

Pulling the cucumber out most of the way, Ghost slides it back inside. He keeps this up at a slow, steady pace. John arches his back with each thrust. His pained grunting start turning into mewls and moans. “You’re loud when you’re getting fucked,” Ghost comments. Soap’s cheeks burn even brighter.

After a while he starts picking up the pace. A few minutes on and the lieutenant is thrusting deep and hard into John. The man’s body is sheened in sweat and moans are pouring from his mouth. He’s almost making more noise than when he’s fucking him, Simon notes.

He pulls the cucumber out, leaving John’s body shuttering. His cock seems looks swollen and ready to explode cum. Simon gives him a tantalizing minute of nothing. It’s too early. He stares at the begging cock.

Ghost slides the cucumber inside and angles the top pillow under John’s lower back just so that it won’t slide out. He then gets off the bed and starts removing his clothes. “And I was wondering if this was just going to be all me…” John says. His eyes rove hungrily over Simon’s body as he throws off his t-shirt and pulls down his pants. Ghost snorts. “Like I’d let you get all the fun.”

Naked, he climbs back on the bed and grabs the lube from between his captain’s legs. He squeezes plenty onto the man’s cock. John’s body tenses furiously and his cock starts to spasm. “Fuck, fuck!” His squirms against his bonds. “Goddamnit, Simon!” he gasps. The lieutenant grabs the twitching length and starts pumping it, lubricating the length. MacTavish cock and sac are quickly slick and shiny with lube.

Ghost then climbs on top of Soap and sits with knees on both side of his captain. He scoots back until he can feel the man’s cock touching his ass. Reaching behind him, he grabs the member places it at his entrance. His own cock starts weep pre-cum.

He pushes the tip of the cock to his entrance, enjoying the tingle of pleasure that sprinkles up and down his spine. He starts pushing it inside. A low moan escapes his lips as the tip disappears inside. Soap pulls on his bonds, biting his bottom lip. “Oh, fucking hell…”

Simon waits a minute, watching John’s quenched face. Then he suddenly sits down on the cock, slipping almost the entire length inside. “Shit!” his captain heaves. His hips buck up sliding the cock in up to his balls. Ghost arches his back with a moan. 

He feels like such a fucking slut sometimes. And this is one of those times. Leaning forward he slowly sits back, enjoying the surreal sensation of his captain’s cock burying into his needy body. It feels so thick and delicious. His reaches down and gives his own cock a few delightful strokes. “For the love of fuck,” John groans. “Move already.” Simon grins cheekily at him.  
“This time it’s my pace.” Still, he picks his hips up and sets them back down, starting a slow rhythm of riding MacTavish’s cock. MacTavish starts thrusting his hips up, making each thrust deeper and harder. Simon’s cock feels lead hard. His eyes widen in surprise as John suddenly slams his cock hard inside of him. Hot wetness fills his insides making him moan loudly. “Oh, God,” John gasps. His knuckles are pale as he clenches his hands in tight fists.

Simon rides out his captain’s release, raising his hips up and down at a quickening pace. The semen makes for extra lubrication and feels. He keeps up a fast pace, squeezing John’s cock even after he’s finished cumming. Soap groans, arching his back.

Riley can feel his cock start to harden again inside of him. He starts riding John harder, his thighs slapping down on his captain as he tries to create as much friction as possible. His body feels hot and tingly. He can feel John’s first release dripping down his thighs. Its warmth only makes him all the more aroused.

He keeps riding John his cock can’t be ignored any longer. He sits down on his captain’s cock and jerks it off frantically. It only takes a few flicks of his wrist before the tip is starts spraying its load. He showers Soap’s chest. His grip around the captain’s cock tightens, squeezing the man until finally can’t take it anymore.

John grunts loudly and bucks his hips roughly as he tries to get the friction to ride out his release. There’s a crack as the cucumber inside John breaks. MacTavish gasps and groans loudly. It’s almost too much cumming again with something filling up his ass.

Simon finishes off himself and slumps forward, not caring that he’s getting his own cum on his chest now, too. “Holy shit,” John breathes. He’s slightly trembling. Simon smirks into his neck. “And that was going easy on you.”  
“The next time there’s bondage, let’s just do it for fun,” MacTavish whispers. He feels so fucking exhausted. “Can you untie me now?” He manages to mutter, eyelids drooping. “Yeah…” Simon mumbles, but John has already dozed off and he’s right behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the second part for Privilege of Rank Pt 1 I promised some time ago. It's extremely late, though, and I apologize for that!
> 
> I was working on this one for quite sometime, on and off. Had fun writing something kinky as hell.


End file.
